


Captive Brothers

by morphia



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor comes to Loki for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captive Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> I do not particularly ship these two. However, a good friend of mine does with a passion, and she’s asked for a fic from me. So this is me trying to write a pair I don’t ship, keep that in mind. Expect not-entirely-consensual-but-actually-yes, sex.  
> Those of you who watched Thor 2 trailer will know what’s happening here. Those who didn’t could still enjoy it for what it is, I hope!

 

He doesn’t get many visitors. Well, he’s not really surprised about that. Most people still haven’t forgiven his little endeavor to start a war on the frost giants, others are still miffed about the Bifrost incident. Thor, he knows, is still angry about his little ploy to take over Midgard. It amuses him, at times, how attached his brother is to those weak creatures that crawl that dirty old world. It infuriates him just as well.  _Why does he not care for me as he does for Midgard?_  He would ask himself, to find no satisfactory answer. It matters little. When Thor dropped him off the end of the Bifrost, Loki had lost his sense of brotherhood with the Thunderer. He’d lost the warmth of his love for him, leaving behind only obsession with his happiness, and the need to steal it from him whenever he could. Thoughts would cycle through his head day and night, but he would never find a way in which to do this differently. Thor had brought it on himself. The exile, the invasion, it had all been Thor’s fault. So why, as the tall, blond man stands in the shadows of the door to this dratted cavern Loki’s held in, does Loki feel guilt?

"You must be truly desperate to come to me for help." Loki says, lacing his voice with venom and a smug, condescending air. True, he can’t have Thor’s grace anymore; he’d given that up when he drove the knife into Thor’s side. He can still have this, though. Bitter as it is. Hateful as Thor may become, Loki will take anything he can get, now. But Thor doesn’t get mad, which is all the more horrible for the words that follow.

"You should know that when you betray me, I will kill you." And of course he would. Of course Thor knows it’s the only possible outcome. He knows Loki can’t not betray him, and it’s a sick relief to know Thor will not be forgiving again. Maybe they were born to exist this way. Maybe Loki was made to taunt Thor, to trick him and upset him, and to die at his hands. That would not be the worst imaginable punishment. Loki swallows around that bitter thought, gathers his will to stay motionless at his spot, to not give away anything because he is the goddamn God of Mischief and if he cannot pull a poker face, then no one in any of the nine realms can.

"When do we start?" He asks, tilting his head with a play of lazy curiosity on his features. Thor stands behind the glass pane, composed and collected, confidence radiating from his every movement. Loki finds himself admiring the way his hair is arranged, framing his face. Handsome face. Untouchable in its pure goodness. This was never meant to be Loki’s, and even his briefest hopes for it in the past have all been silly, childish whims. If Thor touches him, if he takes him to bed or if he kisses him - even if he tells Loki he loves him, Loki knows it’s not really his to own. The Midgardian has Thor’s heart. He pushes the thought back lest it’ll show on his face and turns his attention back to Thor, Odinson, who he can now register is regarding him carefully. Contemplating perhaps, though Loki knows not what, until that smile on Thor’s face changes in nature, from relaxed aloofness to something else. Loki swallows quietly, the gesture as well hidden as he can make it, but something flickers on Thor’s face that lets him know it was not hidden well enough.

"Did you miss me, brother?" Thor asks, and his tone is… different. Loki has heard Thor speak in anger, in rage, sadness and disappointment. He’s heard Thor sounding many different things, even lusting, needing. It’s all things Loki had learned to identify, to manipulate and use for his needs. And yet, while there is no actual poison in Thor’s voice, Loki can only think about the sort of ache that’s the fine line between wanting something and fearing it, when he hears him talk. He realizes it is a very dark shade of lust, a longing that is not exactly right. It would be a lie to say it doesn’t stir a want in him, too. It’s not the superficial desire to be held and cherished, he’s beyond that now. He doesn’t need to be petted and loved, but whatever it is that will satisfy him, he knows Thor can provide, and he doesn’t mind it if Thor makes it  _hurt_.

"Does night miss the day? Do lies miss the truth? Does hate want love?" Loki answers, quirks a slightly mad smile when Thor shifts in his spot, sizzling just a bit. He knows Thor hates it when he speaks in riddles, when he doesn’t speak clearly. He loves doing this to him, and he doesn’t mind lying about anything at all. For Loki, lying is as natural as breathing.

"Your riddles are tiresome, and I am not here to indulge your pointless need to insult me." Thor says. He moves about, is hidden behind a corner, but Loki doesn’t need to see him to know what he’s doing. The glass pane dissipates, allowing Thor access into the room, and then reappears behind him. For once in his life, Loki doesn’t spell himself out of the room at the first glimpse of freedom. There will be time for that, later. Thor did not come here for the pleasure of having his way with Loki, although he doesn’t seem partial to indulging himself. He is here to seek help for his beloved Midgardian, and in helping him, Loki might find a way to escape, or redeem himself. It seems to steel Thor for a moment, and there might be a touch of surprise to his face as he watches Loki stand up slowly.

"You thought I would escape." Loki says, amused. Thor steps closer, and Loki leans in, peering up into his face. “You forget I am not a fool." He continues, and Thor scowls. And isn’t it delicious to know his brother is just smart enough to understand he means to juxtapose the two of them; that he means to mock Thor.

"I am not here to take your insults." Thor repeats in a low voice. His stance remains assured as he reaches to grasp the front of Loki’s shirt, pulls him closer. “I am here to make you take mine."

For a moment, silence stretches between them, and then Loki throws back his head with a laugh. “That was a very good one." He says, ignoring the tightening grasp onto his shirt. “Did you practice it in the mirror?" He taunts, even as Thor hauls him over to the glass pane and turns him around, pressing him flush to the hard, clear surface. He grunts at the impact, wonders if his cheek will bruise, but doesn’t linger on it. “Ooh… You did, didn’t you." He presses, but Thor says nothing more. Loki’s clothes are loose and there’s not much of them, but Thor doesn’t tear through them, even though Loki’s sure it takes every ounce of willpower for Thor to pull this off. Instead, he simply reaches over and pushes at Loki’s pants.

"Not even going to pretend, huh." Loki says, ignores the touch of disappointment he can trace in his own tone. Maybe he does, occasionally, want people to address his humanity. He’s not going to put that one into words, and Thor, though he pauses for a second, doesn’t seem inclined to ask. Loki wonders if Thor feels guilty about any of this. About doing this with Loki when his heart belongs to another. About doing it this way, like Loki means nothing more than a quick lay to him. It’s a moot endeavor and he lets go of these thoughts quickly, biting back the bitterness at Thor’s lack of verbal response, even as the touch gentles the slightest bit.

Hands cup his bare ass, and they’re warm and calloused like a swordsman’s, and large enough to each hold one of Loki’s ass-cheeks. It makes a shudder of anticipation run through Loki, a craving that only intensifies when one hand is removed and he can hear Thor fumbling with something. There’s a heavy thud when the cloak falls from Thor’s shoulders, but the God of Thunder doesn’t stall to remove anything else, and instead opts to simply undo his own trousers and pull them down along with his underwear. “This could hurt more than it should." Thor mutters in Loki’s ear as he presses his body flush against his back. There’s very little sensation where clothes touch clothes, but the heat where their skin meets is all the more intense for it. Thor presses himself between Loki’s cheeks, not yet pressing into him. He’s not hard enough, but Loki knows that when it’s time, he will be.

"And we don’t want that, now do we." Loki answers smoothly, wants to resent Thor for his stubborn insistence to have some lubrication, to not grit their teeth through rough, unforgiving dryness. He doesn’t manage it. Thor has always been a caring man, even when it was clear all he wanted to do was hurt Loki as much as possible. Loki’s eyes close as he casts a well-remembered spell, feels himself grow slick where he shouldn’t be, shudders in absent arousal at the sensation. “Make use of what you’ve got, Thor. You may not have much time to keep it in your grasp." Loki says, hears Thor huff behind him, anger simmering to the surface until Loki can feel it in the way the air shifts around them. Yes, anger makes Thor’s pace the best, Loki manages to think as Thor’s forearm presses his shoulders forward. He braces both hands against the glass to make sure he doesn’t get crushed. Thor pushes his legs slightly apart, and Loki’s eyes close as he feels the blunt head poking, seeking the entrance to his body. Not a split second passes and Thor’s pressing in, deep and fast and it takes Loki’s breath away for a long moment, at the end of which all he manages to produce is a low sound, an exhale.

They stand motionless. Thor is buried deep inside and Loki is itching for movement. He presses back into Thor’s pelvis, hoping it would inspire something more than breathy hot pants on the side of his neck. The hand not currently pinning him to the sheer wall settles on his hipbone, holding firmly, and Thor starts moving the next moment. Loki wants to beat all the grace out of the man behind him, but knows he can’t. Even at his worst moments, Thor had always been a master of his body, of his motions. And he controls the pace regardless of how angry he was, is. It starts slow, smooth, but Thor has neither patience nor time to dawdle, so he picks it up after just a few thrusts. Loki wonders if Thor ever treats his Midgardian like this, knows he never did. Thor is too much of a gentleman for that. He only treats Loki this way, and only because he knows he can. A growl rises from Thor’s chest as the pace grows brutal. Loki pushes back to meet every press like he can’t get enough. He wants more. He wants everything.

"Tho-" Loki utters, not sure what he wants to say, but is relieved of the need to figure it out when Thor’s hand relocates from his hip to his mouth. He licks at the fingers and the base of them until another sound leaves Thor, and two fingers are shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. Loki moans around the digits, finding unexplained pleasure in the drag at his ass, in the way he wasn’t exactly well prepared to be fucked this roughly, and how now it burns with each return. He sucks Thor’s fingers like he used to suck his cock - like it’s the only thing it can sustain his existence. He doesn’t care. Just for a bit, when Thor is fucking him like this, Loki lets himself get lost in the moment, wants to believe Thor is sharing this loss with him.

The thought seems to come true when the pressure at his shoulders eases, and Thor reaches around Loki’s body to push his pants down at the front and close his fingers around Loki’s cock. A surprised sound falls from Loki’s lips, but he’s all the more happy for this. It may be a pretense of care, probably to ease the guilt Thor will experience later for doing this, but Loki doesn’t care. Whatever motivation lies at the core of this action is inconsequential to him. The movement loses its rhythm, mostly for Loki’s sudden drive closer to climax. He can’t even signal this, and that in itself gets Loki the extra mental stimulation he needs to cum. A cry falls from his lips around Thor’s fingers, still wedged safely on his tongue, and Thor’s movement falters again. The hand is pulled from Loki’s mouth and settles on his hip again, holding tight and keeping Loki unmoving as he fucks into him fast and hard, sharp thrusts that have no set rhythm. The air is filled with a dense kind of pressure when Thor finally cums, shoving again and again, adding a sort of warm wetness to Loki’s already slick ass.

They slump forward against the glass, panting hard. Loki feels his entire body is dead weight. He’s limp, loose and relaxed and he thinks, if he could just lean back and let Thor handle things from this moment on, maybe it’d all be alright again. Maybe they can get back to the way it was before.

Thor pulls out the next moment, taking a second to find his balance and then turning to adjust his clothes and collect his cloak from the floor. Loki takes a moment to cast another well-practiced spell, and he’s all clean and not even sore, and maybe for once in his life he would’ve been better off not doing this. He doesn’t linger on that thought and turns to put his clothes in order. By the time he’s got himself in order, Thor appears before him, once more on the other side of the glass pane.

"We start at dawn." Is all he says before he turns and leaves.


End file.
